


Tasting the Pretty Poison

by NaraMerald



Series: Pretty Poison [3]
Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Murder, Torture, awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaraMerald/pseuds/NaraMerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never believed her, trusted her… and it was their fault she was in a place for children who need to get better. They play games there, lots of different games. Briarwood is the pretty poison. There is no cure for Briarwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tasting the Pretty Poison

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erkith](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Erkith).



> Republished from my FF.net account.

Breathe. Breathe.

_Jaenelle!_

A wave of furious rage envelops her mind. A little deeper is panic and disgust that she cannot hide from Jaenelle. 

Rose's face never betrayed her, not even when new girl ate Dannie's leg. But Jaenelle can feel Rose, and Rose is more frightened and disgusted than she's ever felt her, and it makes Jaenelle scared. Helpless.

Jaenelle isn't wearing the jewels, can't wear the jewels and though she can share strength and support with Lucivar, Daemon and Saetan, Rose is too light, and the family at the table would feel her.

It is raining, over the Angelline residence and in Briarwood. The storm clouds are ominous, and make Jaenelle feel small, because she can't help thinking they're a sign of bad luck.

 _Hold on. If you can hold on til after lunch…_ Jaenelle replies pressed, already thinking of ways she can leave.

"May I be excused?" Jaenelle asks quietly. Daemon isn't dining with them today, so there's nothing to distract Leland and Alexandra. Bobby isn't even there, but she knows exactly where he is.

"No Jaenelle, we will sit and eat as a family." Alexandra orders. Phillip tenses, and Leland lets out a familiar nervous laugh. Wilhelmina shoots Jaenelle an anxious look, begging her not to make another scene.

A hairline crack glides down the side of the Chalice.

 

 

Lunch goes on and Jaenelle eats mechanically, forcing food down a throat which threatens to close.

 

 _I WON'T SUBMIT!_ Rose screams in Jaenelle's head.

_Rose? ROSE?!_

_I'm sorry Jaenelle… can't hold-_ Rose disappears and Jaenelle's silver fork clatters loudly on the table when it falls from her hand. 

Swallowing and realising all eyes are on her, she blinks back tears and apologises calmly to Alexandra.

Wilhelmina breathes a sigh of relief. Numbly, Jaenelle eats until the others finished. She does not seek out Daemon or Wilhelmina but instead sits in the library with an etiquette book Leland had given her as a birthday present. Her eyes trace the pages unseeing. 

If this posturing and pretending was the way of the Blood, she would be glad when the day of reckoning came for them. 

As the sky darkens and the maids put her to bed, she slips out of the window easily, descending in the air as if the spiral staircase is tangible. She walks to the grove in silence to wait for Chaillot to sleep.

It is dark, pitch black, as she drops off of the winds. Walking calmly enough at first, a strange lucid horror overtakes her and she is running in panic, stumbling, gasping for breath. The cold air is harsh on her throat but she doesn't stop; can't stop. 

As she draws closer, she slows, choking on her denial as the moonlight reveals the body of a young dark haired girl on the ground. Her limbs lie in unnatural positions as if she'd fallen oddly and not moved again. The girl's throat was been slit; her limp hands covered in blood as if she had reached for her own throat in horror, but could not save herself. Jaenelle's seen a girl murdered in front of her eyes by the stroke of a knife to the jugular before; knows death is almost instantaneous.

The blonde girl shudders, her whole fragile body wracked by withheld sobbing as her eyes looked over the body. A sign to her left, shiny and expensive, proclaims she is at the facility called Briarwood, run by a team of healers lead by Dr Carvay. Trembling in fury, the girl runs to it, beating her fists upon it.

"Rose!" She cries harshly, injuring her fists more than the sign. Sobbing, she gives up and slides down it, fingering the seeds in her pocket.

Witchblood.

A tear rolls down her cheek. They'd said they loved her, but it was her fault Rose had died. All of the other times they didn't believe her, and she'd known that they wouldn't believe her now.

But it was Rose's life! 

Each time it happened Uncle Bobby would smile condescendingly at her, Leland would break down and Wilhelmina would desperately try and distract them all. Alexandra's lips would press into their familiar thin line, Phillip would have a look of ill-disguised concern and she would have heard the familiar stressed phone call. But Bobby wasn't there today, too busy with Rose and the lollipop. 

Jaenelle's lips curl into a snarl.

She isn't sick! She doesn't make up stories… Rose, Myrol, Dannie… 

Crawling on all fours hysterically, she reaches the body. 

"…I'm sorry Rose, I'm sorry…" 

Th blonde girl hugs the corpse, laying her head on it's chest, unheeding of the dried flakes of blood smearing into her hair and face and cries her heart out. It takes a long, long time for the sobs to calm. When they do, she looks at her bloody, dirty hands in silence, and sits up, waiting.

"You can do it Rose, I'm waiting. I'm here." She says softly, coldly. 

A thin layer of ice spreads over the ground, crackling the grass slightly, a wave outwards. The girl shivers from deep within, immovable as she reaches for the earth next to Rose's head. Heedless of her delicate hands, she begins to dig a hole, deep. She doesn't notice her skin tear, or the temperature continue to drop, because this needs to be deep enough that the roots would have time to blossom and grow. No matter how many times they try to pull out the flower, it will just grow back… as a reminder.

The ground is hardly ideal, rocks littering the soil, scratching her hands and leaving tiny trails of red. She continues to dig, heedless of the cold, heedless of the pain, and heedless that her beautifully expensive doll like dress is now ragged, muddy and covered in partially dried blood. Nothing matters, because she knows Carvay will come for her again, and she will be locked away here soon enough.

Her emotions have frozen over, like the descent to the depth of her jewels, and she has no mercy left in her, not tonight… not with Rose lying broken on the ground like cheap jewellery. Another one of Briarwood's decorations. 

If she sees one of the Uncles, she'd kill him… but not with a knife, and not cleanly and painlessly. The killing rage lurks within the previously harmless Summer Sky eyes. The eyes of an adult witch pushed too far… and then beneath that layer, the eyes of Witch… implacable.

Bobby had wanted Rose to lick the lollipop. The time would come for him to be the one to taste the pretty poison, but not soon enough. Witch opens her mind, and feels for the threads of the spells she'd created with the black. Only she can see it hanging over Briarwood like an ominous spider, waiting for Briarwood's Uncles. The Black strands are like cobwebs, ready to tighten and crush, linked to each and every Uncle, like a delicate noose around their necks. Each day strengthens them until the web is woken and ready to hunt. When it wakes, and she knows that it will, knows she will be back here and her blood will spill as surely as Rose's and Dannie's, the web will tighten around its prey, the Uncles blithely unaware until they feel that first cold bite. With a flicker of distaste she queries the spell for a moment.

_To each will get what they gave._

Alerted by a sound behind her, Witch turns to face the Demon Dead Rose.

"I'm sorry." Witch says quietly. Rose smiles, and it isn't a pleasant smile.

"They will be."


End file.
